Mistaken Identity
by AlaskanFan
Summary: This is a prequel to "The Boy Who Could Be King." It's based on the conversation Lee has with Beaman as the episode opens. I had to figure out some context for the ID phrase "Hold me" which got Lee into so much trouble.
Lee breezed through the doors into the bullpen and went straight to the coffee station. He had several things he needed to do this morning prior to picking up Amanda at 9:00. Waiting for coffee to brew in the Q Bureau wasn't on his agenda. The handsome agent was dressed casually for a busy day in the field.

"Scarecrow, old pal. Just the fellow I was hoping to see." Fred Fielder's greeting was unwelcome and suspicious. Normally, the two agents barely grunted at one another.

"Forget it, Fred. I don't have time for your betting pool this morning." Lee enjoyed a good wager, but Fred could concoct the most ridiculous excuses to lose money.

"Not a betting pool. I scheduled a little pick-up for this morning, and I've been called into a _very high level_ meeting, _need-to-know_ and all that, with some _very important_ people, and I won't be able to meet my contact. It wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes - half an hour tops." The agent preened trying to emphasize his importance. It was galling to have to beg Stetson for a favor, but he was in a bind and couldn't be picky. He was pleased that he was dressed in his newest suit – not quite dark enough to be navy, matched perfectly by the chevrons on his tie. He smoothed his hair with one hand as he admired his reflection in the large glass windows at the entrance to the bullpen.

"Forget it, Fred. I have plans for the next hour and then I have to meet Amanda for some important business." Normally, mentioning his lovely partner was like uttering a magic phrase. People were generally willing to give Amanda preferential treatment but it didn't work this time. Lee busied himself with his coffee hoping to ignore Fred enough to send him away.

"Scarecrow, after dumping the Polish dance lessons on me for the Day of Culture and Peace last month, I figure you owe me." He heard himself whining and abruptly switched to a coaxing tone. "Fresh air. Sunshine." Fred hated having to coax, but he didn't have the clout to twist Stetson's arm. "It's a gorgeous day, and it won't take much time at all. You'll still be able to meet Amanda on time. One little pick-up."

Lee looked away as he sipped his coffee. The reports could wait and Spring Fever was hard to resist. Fred was right; the weather was glorious this morning. "I'm not saying, 'yes' yet" he pointed at Fred to emphasize his words. "But what do you want me to do?"

"I'm trying to get a microfilm from a woman. You give her the cash, she gives you the canister, and you bring it to me. Simple." Fred rubbed his hands together briskly to emphasize how easily the work could be done.

"Come on, Fred. What woman? Where? I need to be in Arlington by 9:00." Getting information from Fred could be like pulling teeth. A good agent would have included the details without being asked.

"I'm supposed to meet her at one of those craft fairs in the Buy More Mall. She's medium height, generously built (if you know what I mean), with short blond hair styled like Princess Di's. The identity phrase is 'Hold me' and she will counter with 'My husband is the jealous type.' Then you make the exchange."

"Wait a minute! 'Hold me' is the ID phrase? That's gotta be the dumbest code I've ever heard. Who came up with that?" Lee scoffed in amusement.

"I did." Fred's nostrils quivered in indignation. He tilted his head back, looking down his nose at Stetson, and furrowed his brows. "Her business is named 'Hold Ups' and she customizes suspenders and guitar straps. I thought it was a clever play on words – hold ups and hold me. It would sound natural if someone else is at her booth." He really thought it was a clever code and was insulted by Lee's scorn. He wished he could tell Lee where to stuff his insufferable superiority, but there wasn't enough time to find someone else to make the pick-up. A playboy like Scarecrow should have no problem flirting with the girl and using the code phrase.

Fred firmly squelched his annoyance, twisted his lips into a smile, and tried again. "Look. All you have to do is give her the ID phrase, verify the response, hand her the cash and take the microfilm. I'll be in this meeting until noon, so you can meet Amanda and leave the microfilm on my desk any time before lunch."

"Okay, fine. I'm just too nice to say, 'no,' right?" Lee chuckled as the pinched look on Fielder's face revealed that "too nice" wasn't the phrase that Fred would have used. "Give me your pay-off money. Go to your meeting. I'll make your pick-up." Lee pocketed the wad of cash, tossed the empty styrofoam cup into the waste basket, and headed toward the elevator.

"Mr. Stetson. Are you leaving the building?" Ephraim Beaman got off the elevator and detained Lee while the doors closed behind other agents successfully going somewhere.

"No, I'm still in the building talking to you, Beaman." Lee stated the obvious with a sigh. He checked his watch impatiently. Drive time, pick-up, more drive time – yeah, he could still be on time at Amanda's if Beaman didn't waste the whole morning.

"It's just that, we need to test this equipment and hoped to find someone going out, but not going too far, who would be willing to give us a hand." He adjusted his glasses nervously. Beaman was still fairly new at the Agency and hadn't found his niche yet. He had started in Fabrications and was now working with the Quartermaster in technology. Agents like Stetson intimidated him, but Beaman was determined to do his job well.

"I'm going to the Buy More Mall and then I have a meeting with Amanda. What kind of equipment do you need to test?"

"It's a transmitter. The Mall would be a great place to test its range and its ability to filter extraneous noise. I could attach it to you now, if you're willing." Beaman's confidence increased as Lee indicated willingness to use the device.

"Fine, just get on with it." Lee's patience was wearing thin.

"It's... umm... {cough} It's meant to be concealed. I'll need to put it inside your shirt for an accurate test."

After several minutes of delay with Beaman running a wire up his shirt and around his collar, fiddling with switches and controls, and apologizing repeatedly for such personal contact, Lee was finally able to leave the Agency for Fielder's pick-up.

The activity at the Mall was still minimal. Shoppers were not permitted entry at this early hour but Lee flashed his dimples, offered assistance, and carried two boxes for an elderly woman from her car to her booth. Stores were still closed behind steel fences and the fountains were silent. The craft booths were being arranged for the day with crafters setting out their wares for display or arranging materials to create new items. He scanned the area quickly and walked along the booths searching for his contact.

The sign for "Hold Ups" was propped on a table near the center of the Mall but no one was at the booth. The vertical lines of the "h" and "l" were styled as decorated straps, illustrating the products. Lee noted that it was a prime location because the hospitality area was just beside it. There were a few bottles of champagne to celebrate the craft awards and several covered trays of appetizers. The neighboring booth behind "Hold Ups" featured small paintings. That crafter was busily positioning painting supplies for a demonstration at 9:00, according to the small sign on the table. The sharp scent of turpentine tickled his nose.

He pivoted looking for a curvaceous, blond woman. Ah, there. Princess Di hair. Medium height. She was wearing suspenders decorated with rhinestones, presumably advertising her goods. She was standing just beyond the booth, ending a conversation, and turning back in his direction. She was dressed to be eye-catching. The suspenders accentuated her curves and she wore a shimmery purple blouse that showed cleavage nearly to her navel. Her black pants were skin tight.

Now he had to use that ridiculous ID phrase in a natural manner. He considered for just a moment and moved smoothly towards the woman. He smiled flirtatiously and slipped one finger under her suspender where it curved over her right shoulder. In a low voice he said, "You could hold me, any day." He put a slight emphasis on the code phrase to be sure of the contact. While saying the line, he pulled the discreet wad of cash from his pocket, ready for the exchange. Too late, he realized his mistake. He suddenly saw a different blond woman walking toward them now carrying a big box labelled "Hold Ups" who was surely his contact.

Before he could recover, the woman in purple was smothering him with kisses exclaiming that she would be glad to hold him, and asking whether he wanted to go somewhere more comfortable. When she found the cash in his hand, she body-slammed him into the neighboring booth where turpentine spilled across his torso. Then she twisted in the other direction, and sent him reeling into the bottles of champagne, one of which had been left open. That, too, splashed across his shirt. Then, she pulled her gun and a pair of handcuffs, and recited his Miranda rights faster than an auctioneer in full flow.

In the Mall Security Office, Lee had produced his Agency ID, but even that didn't bring this fiasco to an end. The vice cop had been going off duty when she stopped at the mall to speak to a family member. She wasn't in a good mood, and she tormented Lee by turning every administrative screw she could find. He had to wait for them to call Billy to verify that he was in the Mall on legitimate Agency business. By that time, Lee was in no mood to try a second approach. Let Fielder figure out how to get his microfilm. He was already late picking up Amanda, and he wanted to get this drowned transmitter back to Beaman. What a crazy way to start the day!

 **The end.**


End file.
